The lonely trek deeper into the forest was eerily calm. Mera made sure to keep her Kyyr ability, King’s Retina, active—it was a rare but treasured ability that allowed her to visually perceive Kyyr in the air and, more unsettlingly, glimpse the literal soul of living beings.

She scanned her surroundings, her eyes flickering with the soft glow of the Retina. Wisps of abyssal Kyyr floated lazily in the air, like drifting embers from a distant fire. But as she pressed deeper into the heart of the forest, a strange realization gnawed at her—there were no souls. Nothing alive. No faint signatures, no wandering spirits. Just the cold, empty dance of abyssal energy, twisting and coiling around her.

Since entering the deeper part of the forest, the bubble ponds had completely vanished, as if they’d never existed. The ground had changed too—water now collected in still, deep pools that reflected the canopy above like silver mirrors.

She knelt beside one of these pools, her eyes catching something unexpected beneath the surface. Flowers bloomed in the depths, delicate and ethereal, their petals shifting between soft pinks and translucent whites. They swayed gently in an unseen current, as if they thrived only in the quiet solace of the water’s embrace.

For a moment, her dread seemed to fade. Despite the eerie pressure, a quiet peace settled over her, the flowers’ serene dance offering her a fleeting glimpse of peace.

She decided to rest at the water’s edge. She softly reached for her water bottle, pulling it from her small bag. Cracking her Retina, she let the cool liquid soothe her parched throat as she sat by the pool. She relaxed for a moment, still unnerved by the lack of anything. The forest remained utterly still—no breeze, no rustling leaves. Only the soft hum of distant Kyyr currents whispering in the air.

She would periodically scan her surroundings over and over, eyes sharp, searching for any trace of the thing that had taken Ryan. But the forest gave nothing away. It was as if the very land around her had folded inward, keeping its secrets buried beneath the still waters and sinister glows.

She ran a hand along the edge of the pool, her fingers grazing the surface. Ripples spread across the water, distorting the reflection of the canopy above. The flowers beneath shimmered as the ripples passed, their fragile beauty somehow untouched by the unsettling quiet loneliness.

On the other side of the forest, Anneli sprinted across the surprisingly even ground, her boots barely rustling the soft pink grass beneath her feet. Now and then, she’d scale the blossom trees with practiced grace, using the branches to keep her bearings, ensuring the looming shadow of the monolith stayed behind her.

There—Finally!

A breeze swept across the canopy; the fresh wind bathed her in fresh air as she gained her bearings. From her vantage point, she spotted the cliff face—sharp and familiar, just as she remembered it—jutting against the horizon, a lifeline above the blossom forest.

Crawling back down the tree, she adjusted her path, aligning herself toward the distant cliff. Each step felt lighter, her body running on the promise of safety just within reach. Though fatigue nipped at her muscles, the thought of escaping the forest kept her moving, steady and relentless.

She let a flicker of hope take root—maybe, just maybe, safety was within reach. The forest’s mantle grew sparser with every step, the thick canopy beginning to give way to slivers of open sky. The last traces of Kyyr energy shimmered faintly around her, a fragile barrier against the creeping abyssal condensation pressing at the edges of her senses. It wasn’t much—just a thin veil between her and the oppressive abyss—but for now, it held. And for now, it would have to be enough.

As she ran, her thoughts wandered, slipping through cracks in her focus. Was Mera okay? Tom, Ryan, her family—they flickered in and out of her mind like fleeting images. But one name refused to fade, looming larger than the rest.

Vizor.

Why? What did Vizor stand to gain from any of this? The question gnawed at her, restless and unanswered, as she weaved between trees, her mind racing faster than her legs. Was there someone else pulling the strings? And how did Ka’lou fit into all of this? What was the endgame? Every answer she grasped crumbled in her hands, leaving her more unsettled than before.

Her legs burned with fatigue, each step heavier than the last, but she pressed on, her resolve unwavering.

Mera checked the time—1534 (3:34 PM) A wave of disbelief rippled through her—had that much time really passed? She moved cautiously beneath the cheery pink canopy of the blossom forest. The dreadful quiet snuffing any ease as she got closer to the dark figure in the distance.

She sniffed the air. The sweet scent of Primadrossa drifted lazily on the breeze, stirring a faint pang of hunger in her belly. With a sigh, she reached into her pack, pulling out a protein bar. Her stomach rumbled in response, but the moment she unwrapped the bar, a wave of nausea hit. She put the treat back in her pack as she nervously moved forward.

Not far ahead, the black walls of the dark monolith absorbed the incandescence of the forest. Increasing her Kyyr flow, she heightened the perception range of her Kyyr Retina.

And her eyes widened as she saw them.

Souls.

They drifted in the distance—crystal-like forms, delicate and haunting. Their heart-shaped silhouettes floated silently, suspended within the shimmering waves of Kyyr light that rippled around the monolith. The way they swayed in the unseen current felt almost deliberate, like lanterns caught in a dreamscape, beautiful and wrong all at once.

She stumbled forward as her gaze lingered on a particularly warm soul that to her glimmered brighter than the rest, a beacon amidst the abyss.

Ryan…

Roots tangled at her feet, grass snagged her boots, but she didn’t care. She barreled forward, tripping into shallow pools, tumbling over logs, scrambling back up each time. The sting of cold water and rough bark went unnoticed—nothing mattered except reaching him.

Her breath grew ragged as she neared her destination, the warm soul just within reach. With a burst of desperation, she shattered her Kyyr Retina, the heightened perception collapsing in a rush. She braced herself, expecting to see Ryan—to find him waiting in the glow.

But all she saw were cocoons. Woven together with intricate spirals of pink grass, they rested ominous against the black walls of the monolith.

Her chest tightened, a wave of confusion washing over her as she walked around. There were eight cocoons. The three nearest to her were about her size, nestled softly in the pink grass. But the other five were massive—twice, maybe three times larger.

Two of the larger cocoons lay empty, their fibers sagging and lifeless, with strange warped tendrils standing perfectly erect yet lifeless. The remaining three, however, pulsed faintly, as if something inside was breathing—rising and falling with a slow, deliberate rhythm.

Mera’s heart pounded loudly, her mind struggling to comprehend what she was looking at. She took a step closer, her breath shallow and uneven, tension coiling in her chest. Resting a trembling hand on the cocoon she hoped held Ryan, she felt the soft, pulsing membrane hum faintly beneath her fingers.

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Swallowing her anxiety, she knelt down and pulled a dagger from the side of her boot. She placed the blade against the pink membrane of the cocoon, the tender outer layer giving away easily to the blade's end. The outer layer parted easily beneath the sharp edge, releasing a faint, warm mist that drifted into the air. The membrane gave way, peeling back as the contents were revealed.

It was Ryan.

He looked pristine, untouched, as if his fight with Ka’lou had never even happened. His face was calm, eyes shut tight in what seemed like a peaceful slumber. Mera let out a shaky breath, her fingers brushing through his messy blonde hair. A soft smile tugged at her lips as tears began to form.

With surprising ease, she pulled Ryan from the cocoon, his weight lighter than she expected. Stumbling back a little under his weight, she adjusted her grip—until something odd caught her eye.

Her gaze drifted down to his left calf, where a strange growth extended from his leg. A chill ran through her as she studied the unnatural appendage, its form slick and twisted, embedded deep into his skin.

Reactivating her Retina, the ghostly energy sharpened her eyes. The tendril pulsed with a dark rhythm, and she watched in horror as abyssal Kyyr flowed steadily from the growth and seeped into Ryan’s body—like a twisted umbilical cord feeding him warped nutrients.

She tilted her head, uncertain what to do next. The growth pulsing with abyssal Kyyr filled her with unease, and the thought of cutting it without knowing the consequences made her hesitate. If severing it harmed Ryan, she wouldn’t forgive herself.

She took a slow breath, steadying her nerves. I need to test this first. Her gaze drifted across the other cocoons, searching through the floating souls for someone specific.

Among them, three souls stood out—clearly human, just like Ryan. But beyond them, her Retina revealed something darker. Three more souls lingered nearby, their shapes twisted and unmistakable. Rak’da.

A shiver ran down her spine at the sight. Dealing with Rak’da was the last thing she wanted, their very presence sending waves of revulsion through her. For a moment, she fought the urge to back away—but she quickly dismissed the thought. Taking in a deep breath, she chose to ignore them, focusing instead on the soul she had business with.

The familiar glow pulsed just within reach, and Mera’s mind steadied, grim resolve setting in. She approached the cocoon she suspected and, with a swift motion, sliced it open, revealing a pale but fully restored Ka’lou inside. Not a single trace of injury remained, as if he’d never suffered a wound to begin with.

With a cold glare, she grabbed him by the collar and dragged him out, letting his body slump carelessly into the grass. The softness of the pink blades beneath him felt like an insult—too gentle.

As she leaned closer, her stomach tightened. A dark tendril was lodged into Ka’lou’s spine, pulsing rhythmically with abyssal Kyyr, just like Ryan’s.

Mera’s jaw clenched as she rifled through Ka’lou’s pockets, her fingers brushing past odds and ends until they closed around something familiar—the lowglider’s keys. Relief washed over her as she slipped the keys into her pocket. That was one problem solved.

She picked up her knife again, the cold weight of it steady in her hand. Her eyes lingered on the slimy tendril for only a moment before her resolve solidified. No hesitation.

With a swift, deliberate motion, she sliced through the tendril.

The once-limp tendril burst to life the moment it was severed from Ka’lou’s body. Its cut end writhed violently, spiraling tongues whipping from within, each lashing frantically as a black haze oozed onto the pink grass.

Mera staggered back, her breath hitching as the tendrils hissed, spreading like venom across the ground. Ka’lou snapped awake with a choking gasp, his eyes wide with madness.

"H-help—” he begged before his body bent as he arched on his back, screaming incoherently. His body convulsed violently as his head dragged itself backwards, his ribcage popping until his spine cracked with a vile snap.

For a brief moment, he hung suspended in place, when suddenly his eyes rolled back into his skull as spiraling tendrils erupted from his mouth, stretching his cheeks like a blossoming flower. The severed appendage, as if drawn by instinct, slithered across the ground, its tendrils hungrily latching onto his contorted form. The pink grass stirred to life, wrapping him once more in a pink fresh, mildly see-through cocoon.

Then came the sound—a wet, vile crunch—as Ka’lou’s broken body snapped grotesquely back into shape within the cocoon, bones grinding into place with unnatural precision. Mera shuddered, unable to tear her eyes away as the cocoon pressed itself against the black wall and went still, as if nothing had ever happened.

A needling feeling surged through her as she anxiously looked at the sleeping Ryan. Her eyes widened as she dropped the knife in her hand. Her fingers trembling as she stared.

The light above began to refract and twist as a massive floating lake drifted overhead, casting an ethereal blend of shifting shadows and flickering light across the forest floor. She shuddered. What do I do? She thought, biting down on her panic as she reached for the knife, her fingers brushing the cool metal once more.

Steeling herself, she boosted her Kyyr Retina, letting the energy sharpen her vision as she focused on the cocoons. Her gaze lingered on Ka’lou’s cocoon, studying it closely. Tendrils of abyssal Kyyr coiled outward from his spine, weaving through his body and permeating the cocoon’s walls. The energy spread like dark veins, diffusing through every fiber of the cocoon, as though the very essence of the forest was sustaining the strange growth.

On the other hand, Ryan’s tendril clung to his leg, its twisted growth slowly burrowing deeper, inching its way through his flesh as if seeking his spine—or worse, his brain. Mera’s stomach churned at the sight, but she forced herself to move.

She made her way to the next human-sized cocoon. Kneeling beside it, she pressed her blade against the pink grass, carefully slicing through the fibrous layers. As she peeled the strands apart, a strange lining beneath hissed and recoiled, as if alive. Mera gritted her teeth and tore it away, revealing the cocoon’s occupant.

It was Tom—but not the Tom she remembered.

His skin was nearly translucent, stretched too thin over his frame, with dark veins pulsing visibly beneath the surface, spiraling in an unnatural pattern. His hair had begun to fall away in uneven patches, and his eyelashes were completely gone, leaving his face smooth and disturbingly alien.

Mera recoiled in disgust, gagging as a rancid stench wafted from the cocoon—thick and rotten, as if death clung to him already. Unlike Ryan or Ka’lou, whatever transformation had begun was clearly at a later stage.

Mera enhanced her Kyyr Retina further, focusing her sharpened perception on Tom’s deteriorating body. Swallowing down a wave of disgust, she carefully slid him from the slimy cocoon, the viscous membrane clinging to his skin as she rolled him onto his side.

“By the Fifteen…” she whispered, covering her nose with her arm.

Along his spine, not one but three tendrils burrowed deep into his flesh, each one throbbing in time with the abyssal Kyyr surging through them. The sight made her skin crawl. She leaned closer, studying the invasive tendrils with grim focus. The middle one pulsed with the most intensity, pumping a steady, powerful flow of abyssal Kyyr into Tom’s body.

Mera furrowed her brow, her mind racing as she pieced together what she’d seen so far. The tendrils weren’t random—they burrowed through wounds, exploiting weak points to infiltrate the body.

Looking back at Ryan, lying still where she’d left him. Most of the abyssal Kyyr in his body had pooled heavily around his left calf, collecting just below the knee. She felt a little relief noticing it hadn’t spread past that point—at least not yet.

Cut the leg... The thought twisted in Mera’s mind, vile and unthinkable. She shook her head, trying to dismiss it, but no other solution came to her.

Heart pounding, she walked over to Ryan’s unconscious body. Her small knife trembled in her hand—it wasn’t enough. It would never be enough. But she had no other tools. She knelt beside him, pressing the blade against his skin just beneath the knee.

Kyyr energy surged through her hands, steadying them, but her whole body tensed as fear gripped her. Her fingers shook as she pushed the blade deeper.

Dark red blood burst from the cut, warm and slick, staining her hands. Mera gasped and jerked away, the knife slipping from her fingers. Staggering back, she fell onto her back, her chest heaving, terror clutching at her as she stared at Ryan’s still form.

Her breath came fast and ragged, her thoughts spiraling. She squeezed her eyes shut, willing the fear to subside. For a moment, she lay there, desperate for some kind of relief, some clarity—but none came.

Then, driven by a primal need to plead into the vast emptiness, Mera tilted her head upward.

When she noticed something odd. High above the section with the cocoons, there was an aperture—a gap faint but unmistakable leading into the black monolith.

Tilting her head to the side, Mera noticed something strange—the aperture sat at a slight angle, as though the monolith had shifted or fallen onto its side. She squinted, focusing her enhanced vision. Actually, looking closer, she noticed crushed trees, their trunks splintered and half-buried beneath the monolith’s massive weight, as if it had come crashing down from above.

Her breath caught. The pieces clicked together in her mind, absurd but undeniable.

A ship?